


Is There A Prize For Worst Cosplay?

by flawedamythyst



Series: Winterhawk Tumblr ficlets [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comic-Con, Cosplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 19:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15444645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Clint and Bucky go to Comic Con.





	Is There A Prize For Worst Cosplay?

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” said Bucky.

“This is the best idea I’ve ever had,” corrected Clint without looking up, too focused on wrapping another sloppy layer of tinfoil around Bucky’s arm.

“I guess it’s not a high bar,” allowed Bucky. He handed Clint the tape without needing to be asked and Clint swathed his elbow in it.

“That okay?”

Bucky carefully bent his arm, trying to avoid ripping all the tinfoil off. He had a bit of mobility, but he was going to have to remember to be gentle with it all day. He guessed that would fit with the rest of the shitty costumes Clint had thrown together for them. “I guess.”

Clint grinned and set the tape down. “Oh man, you look so second-rate, it’s perfect.”

He’d given Bucky instructions to wear an old pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt, then handed him a fake leather jacket so cheap that it looked more like plastic. He’d cut the left sleeve off clumsily, leaving ragged threads all along the seam that overhung the tinfoil covering the real metal of Bucky’s arm.

“Just the finishing touches,” said Clint, and pulled out a pair of black gloves. Unlike the rest of Bucky’s outfit, they actually looked good quality, which probably made sense. They couldn’t exactly wrap his hand in tinfoil, so making sure the gloves weren’t going to rip was the best idea.

“Do I get any weapons?” asked Bucky, and was handed a plastic knife so cheap that the blade was already bent. He sighed, but tucked it into his belt.

“Don’t look like that,” said Clint. “It’s not like you’re going to have to kill anyone at Comic Con.”

“I will now you’ve jinxed us like that,” said Bucky.

Clint just grinned at him as he slung his own toy weapon onto his back. For some reason his toy bow was not only child-sized, but had a golden bird holding an arrow in its beak emblazoned on it. The rest of his outfit was pretty basic; just black jeans and a purple t-shirt. If Bucky had seen a picture of the outfit on someone else, he never would have pegged it as a Hawkeye costume, although he guessed it was going to help that Clint would be walking next to a guy with one metal arm.

“Why am I doing this again?” he asked the universe.

“Because you can’t resist my winning charm,” said Clint, slapping a sticker of the SHIELD symbol on his shirt.

More like Bucky couldn’t resist his puppy eyes, but it pretty much amounted to the same thing. He took a deep breath and rolled out his shoulders, then winced at the sound of straining tinfoil. “Fuck it, let’s do this.”

It only took fifteen minutes inside the con for Bucky to remember the real reason he was doing this. He and Clint had attracted a handful of glances, but most of them could be categorised as either ‘who the hell are those guys meant to be?’ or ‘Jesus, couldn’t they have put a bit more effort in?’ The only exception had been a woman who had taken a long moment to take in Clint’s ass in those pants, which Bucky was willing to allow, because the thing was a fucking work of art and deserved to be appreciated.

Not one single person had looked at the two of them in their shitty Hawkeye-and-Winter-Soldier cosplay and thought it was the real Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes. Which meant Bucky was free to reach over and take Clint’s hand, and just be with his boyfriend without worrying about it being all over the tabloids the next day.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want the whole world to know that he was the guy lucky enough to be with Clint, because sometimes it was all he could do not to get on top of the Empire State Building and shout out just how fucking perfect his boyfriend was. What he wasn’t ready for was the media getting all involved in it; running pieces on whether or not he was stable enough for a relationship, or a bad influence, or secretly sleeping with Black Widow behind Clint’s back, or any of the rest of the shit that he saw Tony and Pepper being dragged through.

He just wanted this. Wanted to get to smile at Clint with the full force of his affection when he got over-excited about getting Nat a Black Widow plush bunny he’d found, and wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him in close as they waited in the line for the _Dog Cops_ panel, and be the hand he gripped tightly enough to grind bones together when the dog who played Sergeant Whiskers was trotted across the stage.

“This was so worth it,” said Clint breathlessly, looking at Bucky with radiant glee, and Bucky leaned in and kissed him, right in the middle of a crowd of hundreds of people, without any of them giving a damn.

That was more than worth a bit of tinfoil.


End file.
